Chapter 9
Nine
Zee
His words linger between us as I listen for a sound.
The cocking of a gun, a knife coming out of its sheath, anything to tell me what’ll happen next.
You’re not safe.
They want you dead.
He works for them.
My brain scrambles for something to say. But what do you say to a man who’s about to kill you?
“Listen, I’ll do whatever you want.” The words escape me. “Take the house.”
“No.”
“Money? Drugs? Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” Frustration builds hot in my arms before I slam my fist into his chest. That only makes him take a step closer.
My pulse jumps when something firm presses against my stomach. My mouth parts, a thin, shaky exhale escaping between my lips.
Is that what I think it is?
My thoughts blur.
“I want you.”
Heat spikes my chest, a pulse between my legs as traitorous as the first night. His word echoes between us, and all I can ask is … “Wh-why?”
No response. Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. He leans back, his forehead leaving mine, and somehow, it makes me cold.
My hand inches towards him, and … this is wrong. So fucking wrong. But I can’t fight this pull. It’s like staring down a long line of cocaine when you know you’ve had enough. It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t. But it’s irresistible.
My fingers trail along the edge of his shirt, my other hand bracing the shelf behind me. It doesn’t steady me. Nothing does. Not now.
He stiffens, and I should stop. I shouldn’t go further. So why do my fingers drift lower instead?
My breath catches as the space between us closes in.
“Is this what you want?” Before I can stop myself, I sink, slow and careful, until I’m on my knees.
“I didn’t tell you to kneel.”
“Do you want me to stand?”
A pause. Then, “No.”
“What else do you want?” Two of my fingers graze along the band of his pants. Joggers. I trace each ridge of his abs, his skin warmer and softer than I imagined.
No answer, but I can feel his muscles tighten. A sharp breath between us. Heat spreads between my legs as I walk my fingers down his pants, grazing his massive bulge.
“Have you thought about it?” I drag my fingers along his outline. My lips move to it like this isn’t dangerous. Like this isn’t stupid. But it’s warm, throbbing… And for once, the thoughts don’t come.
No spiral.
No second-guesses.
More words fall out my mouth. “Have you thought about my lips around you?”
“Yes.” His hand comes to my head, his fingers pushing between my strands. Danger and desire collide within me, my stomach flipping with anticipation.
“Are you thinking about it right now?” My fingers find both waistbands, pulling them down a bit at a time.
When I get to where his cock hides, my heartbeat picks up. Every pulse between my legs should be a warning. But I can’t stop. With one strong tug, I pull it down.
Soft, warm, velvety skin presses to my cheek as another groan escapes him. “Angel.”
I swallow, catching my breath.
There it is again. The same thing he called me the night we met. If I’m his angel, what does that make him to me?
Still a stalker.
“Use your pretty mouth.”
Every nerve inside me hums at his words. My body shouldn’t be this alive. I shouldn’t want this. He doesn’t force me. He doesn’t push my head into it. Yet, desire overrules caution.
I press my lips to the head of his cock, a fire deep in my core. Warm. Smooth. Already wet with pre-cum. I don’t expect how wide I have to part my lips to wrap them around the tip.
“Go on," he growls. "Take it.”
I let his length slowly enter my mouth, opening my jaw wider and wider.
“Relax.” He strokes my hair. “Your muscles. Relax them.” He clearly knows how big he is. Everything about him is intimidating, but his next words aren’t. “Spit on it. It’ll help.”
I follow his words, finding enough saliva to spit on his cock. That makes him chuckle, a deep roll filling the space.
“More.”
I do it again, this time enough that I get the splatter of the impact on my face.
He lets out a sharp exhale. There’s something about his response that makes my stomach flip, wetness pooling between my legs.
“Breathe and open.”
With a deep breath, I open my jaw as wide as I can. He slides further into my mouth, cursing as my lips wrap around him. He pushes further and further until he hits the back of my throat. Then I do it all over again. Each time a little quicker. Each time, I work my tongue a little more.
“Good fucking girl,” he groans, my hair still in his grasp.
It’s not long before he starts thrusting back, like he’s testing my commitment to fighting for my life. I gag each time he hits the back of my throat. He tsks each time I do, like he’s unimpressed.
Is it so wrong that I want to blow his mind?
My hands wrap around his ass, and hell … It’s a good ass. Firm but plump. He gives Drey a run for his money.
He curses again when I pull him closer, letting the tip of his shaft sit in the back of my throat. A gagging sound leaves me as I push further, trying to get him deeper than my throat can handle. Spit dribbles down my mouth as his cock throbs harder, pulsing with my heartbeat.
“Enough.” I gasp for air when he pulls back, my chin wet with spit as he stands me up.
He grabs me. I can’t see the room flip, but my head feels the shift as he spins me upside down.
His wet cock slaps against my face before the heat of his breath lands between my legs, his arms tight around me. And I fucking shudder.
Is he doing what I think he’s doing?
“Your mouth,” he says, his hips thrusting at my face. His long, wet shaft taps against my cheek. “Use it.”
The second I take him back into my mouth is the second his mouth meets my centre. My eyes pop open into the darkness as his tongue parts my folds.
“So fucking wet for me,” he growls between my thighs, working his hips, his cock pushing in and out of my throat. A wave of tingling heat takes over my body as he swirls his tongue over my clit, his groans vibrating my thighs. “Fuck, you’re delicious.”
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, my words garbled by the force of his cock.
The way he throbs in my throat and the way he moves his tongue over me feels insane. Electric. I’m a tall girl, not a small one. The way he’s able to keep me upside down this long, my thighs trembling against his face, is impressive. Hot. It’s fucking hot.
He moves his tongue in a way I’ve never felt before. Slow and rhythmic. Frantic and hungry. It takes me forever to have an orgasm with anyone, even myself, but now?
“You’re almost there,” he groans, fucking my face faster, a hand coming to my head. He pushes his shaft down my throat as he plunges his tongue inside me. Again and again.
My thighs squeeze against his head.
What the fuck are you doing?
Going to fucking Mars.
A sweet saltiness hits my tongue, and I work my mouth faster. I crave the release of this stranger as much as I crave mine.
“Give it to me,” he growls, moving his tongue between my clit and my dripping hole. He gets laser-focused as I use my last breath to keep him steady in my throat.
I know he’s holding me, but fuck it, I’m floating.
“Do it,” he growls. “Come for me, Angel.”
My body feels like fucking liquid, and I can’t take it anymore. Heat rushes through me as I shatter. Right on his face.
His cock falls out of my mouth as a long, loud moan escapes me. My entire face turns to sparkles as my long, hard release overtakes me.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuck!” I scream before he silences me, pushing his cock further. He fills my throat, choking me with his cum, but it only makes my ride last longer.
I don’t even know when he’s placed me back on my feet.
I don’t know when the room stops shaking.
Slam!
A chill takes over the space, my hand lunging forward.
“Sugar Skull?”
He’s gone.
Sleep doesn’t come.
Even when the lights are back.
Even once I’ve checked all the doors.
There’s no sleeping after that.
I shove my balled-up clothes into a garbage bag, not caring about wrinkles. They’re all old anyway. Thrifted, handmedowns, or stolen.
I don’t know where home is anymore, but I do know it can’t be here. Not after that.
My stomach twists when I think about moments ago. Another mind-shattering orgasm from my intruder.
Sugar Skull.
What the fuck was I thinking?
How could I want that?
How could I let that happen?
Rushing to the bathroom, I reach into the medicine cabinet, collecting the small items on the shelves. Nailclip. Scissors. My pills.
My grip tightens around the pill bottle as I stare at the directions printed on it. I’m not hallucinating. Last night was fucking real.
I felt the way he claimed me. I felt the way his mouth worked me.
Closing the cabinet, my tired face greets me. So does the faded bruise Drey left. I lean in closer, examining it.
For once, he’s not the guy I’m running from. He might be the only one I can run to.
A jolt hits my core.
Was this Drey’s plan?
Did he send someone to scare me?
My grip tightens on the sink. Clips of last night flick through my head. I couldn’t see, but I felt everything. And I’ve never felt anything like it.
Drey treats my pussy like a cat sampling milk for the first time. A rare cat that hates milk. Even on the tenth go, he hardly touched me, as if an actual taste of me might kill him. But last night? Sugar Skull craved it like his favourite snack. Like water in a desert. He craved me.
My hand travels down my body, my mind on the way he thrusted his tongue inside me. The way he devoured me. The way he held me against his face until every part of me shook. And the way he fits in my mouth? I’ve never felt so feral for a dick in my life.
My hand finds my centre, already wet from my thoughts.
You’re insane.
My hand drops.
It’s true. Drey’s right. I’m crazy.
A deep breath calms my racing heart before I move out of the bathroom.
I need to get out of here.
The house creaks under my steps as I head downstairs to pack up my books. Taking a second, I scan the space.
The sunrise teases the day, illuminating the living room. A few books lay across the floor, a cushion overturned.
My eyes fall to the armchair toppled over to the side of the room. He must’ve taken the gun. But he didn’t use it.
Heat spreads across my face when my gaze settles on the closet to the side of the room. I stare at it, expecting answers.
Am I stupid for leaving before finding out who Sugar Skull is? The man who turned me upside down and made me see the stars.
Did he leave anything inside?
I approach the closet, my hand shaking as I reach for the knob.
Do you need to go in there?
You’re leaving anyway.
But what if he left something behind?
What if I can figure out who this is?
A chill flows from my palm down to my toes as I wrap my hand around the cold brass knob.
“It’s just a door, Zee,” I mutter. “It’s just a closet.” I take a step back when I whip the door open, like I’m expecting Chuckie to jump at me with a knife.
But it’s as I thought.
It’s just a closet.
Clothes hang to one side, a stack of boxes lined against the other. Looking up, a string sways from a naked light bulb. Pulling the string, the room lights up, revealing what sits beyond the clothes. More boxes line the small space in front of a wall with crinkling old wallpaper. Blue stripes.
That weird smell takes over as soon as I step in. It's the same thing I smelled last night, but didn’t register with Sugar Skull distracting me with his mouth.
My eyes sweep the floor of the small space. Dust. Loose change. A pencil. Nothing looks like it’s from Sugar Skull. Not even a hair.
My shoulders drop.
This is for the better.
Reaching for the door, my hand stalls, my eyes catching on something familiar.
A long leather trenchcoat.
Ruby red.
It looks like one that belonged to my mom.
Pulling it off the hook at the back of the door, I make sure what I’m seeing is real.
It has the same lining I remember. Beige silk. It was her favourite, but one day, she stopped wearing it. I thought she sold it for drugs or money.
Reaching into one of the side pockets, my fingers touch something hard. Cardboard. Pulling it out reveals a postcard of Notre Dame in the Old Port. Flipping it over, my eyes land on my mother’s swirly handwriting.
It’s not a long message, but it’s as direct as I’ve ever heard her.
B,
Never follow us again.
- Y.Z.
My eyes focus on the initials. Yara Zafar.
The world spins, the room closing in again.
She told me he didn’t care. She said he was a deadbeat dad who left and never looked back.
Stumbling back, I brace my elbow against the shelf, letting my weight fall on it.
Cre-eak!
BOOM!
“Shit!”
The thin shelf cracks, pulling some wall with it as it thuds to the floor.
A box falls on my foot, a wave of pain rushing through me. Rubbing my elbow, my head tilts to the side.
How thin are these walls?
Tapping my foot on the other wall, it sounds a lot stronger than the wall in front of me.
I tap the wall that held the shelf again, a hollow sound responding.
My hand hovers over the hole it made, a cold draft tickling my fingers.
I swallow hard.
I’ve heard stories. The ones about people living in your walls. You don’t even notice it at all until one day there’s a weird dish in the sink. Or something in the garbage.
Or a smell.
My heart pounds as I peer one eye into the hole. It’s too dark to see anything, even with the light on.
Is this where he’s hiding?
Is this where my intruder lives?
With me?
The adrenaline kicks in, my heart pumping fast as I lean back and kick into the wall.
A big piece crumbles.
Then another. And another.
When the hole is big enough to fit my hand through, I reach over and pry the wall open.
Wait…
Wait!
Fuck!
My feet stumble back again, my chest tight and tingly.
What. The. Fuck?
They said I missed the burial.
They said it was a suicide.
So why is he here?